Tag Archives: ale

beer-taps

Navigating tap handles: Selecting lager or ale

Call me nosey.

I’ve been called worse. But when I happen to be at a bar by myself, I tend to survey the scene. I’ll peruse the beverages on draft and look to see which bartender is apt to provide the best service, but, mostly, I’ll eavesdrop and “people watch.”

Recently, I overheard a college-aged man and woman, seemingly on a date for only the first or second time, sitting at the corner of the bar. Nothing unique, really, but I got the sense early on that the young woman was either not much of a drinker or had recently turned 21 and had little beer-ordering experience. She asked her date to order for her because she didn’t know what to get. He asked her simply, “Well, do you want an ale or a lager?”

I wasn’t listening intently — I’m not that nosey — but the question piqued my interest because I immediately thought to myself, “Come on, kid, do you really think she knows or even cares about the difference?” Not to my surprise, she just stared at him blankly and shrugged.

Now I was listening because I was wondering how this guy would explain it to his date. Obviously, a cold scientific response would not work and would more than likely bore his date to tears. “Budweiser is lager,” he started, and then he paused as he scanned the available beers on tap until he found a green handle and pointed it out to his date, “and Sierra Nevada is ale.”

While I knew his answer was as vague as vague could be, he was essentially correct. His date shrugged again, still a perplexed look upon her face, and said she’d just have a Bud Light. (She added the phrase “I guess” afterward, further cementing the fact that his response meant nothing to her.)

So why the Bud Light and not the Sierra Nevada Pale Ale? Did she really prefer lager over ale? Or did the name have something to do with it?

Be honest with yourself: whether you’re a 21-year-old woman or a 45-year-old man, you are apt to begin considering which beer to order at a bar based on brand name. You, too, likely scan the bar taps, with their ornate, colorful, creative handles, making a mental checklist, crossing off the brands that don’t appeal. But there are many factors beyond the brand that can help you make your choice.

At its most basic level of contrast, beer can be broken into two main categories: ale and lager. You are most likely not going to order a beer by telling the bartender you just want an ale or a lager (unless, of course you’re in Pennsylvania, where “lager” is synonymous with Yuengling Traditional Lager).

All beer is made from the same basic ingredients: water, barley, malts, hops, and yeast. Other things may be added in to influence flavor, color, or consistency, but those elements are common to all beer. The difference between an ale and a lager can’t be found in most of those ingredients, either: some ales will use the same type of malts and hops in their beer as a lager counterpart.

So what is the difference in the name? What makes ale ale and lager lager?

While there is no doubt that some exceptional and seasoned beer drinkers will claim to be able to pinpoint very different tastes between lagers and ales, it really comes down to one thing: the type of yeast used in brewing.

Ales have been brewed for much longer than lagers, with some ancient recipes of ale as medicine having been discovered to date back as far as Sumerian times. Ales most commonly utilize a yeast called Saccharomyces cervisiae, which has been cultivated for thousands of years and which favor warm temperatures, usually between 58 and 86 degrees Fahrenheit. These yeast strains must be brewed at a warmer temperature because, if the water is too cold, the yeast become dormant and do not naturally ferment to turn the water into beer. Most wine production also uses S. cervisiae or a similar strain of yeast.

S. cervisiae is also a top-fermenting (or top-cropping) yeast, meaning that as the brewing occurs, the yeast floats to the top of the brew tank and settles over the beer. This allows for a thick, frothy foam to form over the ale. Ales brewed in this method tend to allow for the fruit and bitter aromas in the hops to be overt in the finished product. Because of this, some ales will have a much cloudier appearance than lagers. Unless very stringent filtering techniques are utilized, most ales will have noticeable remnants or sediment from the yeast even when bottled.

On the other hand, lagers are cited in references and recipes only dating back as far as the mid-1500s in Germany and other parts of Europe. Lager uses a hybrid strain of yeast called Saccharomyces pastorianus, named after famous researcher Louis Pasteur, or Saccharomyces carlsbergensis, named by Emil Hansen, a researcher who worked for Danish beer giant Carlsberg Brewery in the 1800s.

Even though lager yeast is known by two names, it was later found that they are the same exact strain of yeast. Hansen discovered that his strain of yeast could be cultivated in-house and was easier to brew, needing less attention from the brewmaster’s watchful eyes. The owners of Carlsberg shared their secret of cultivating the lager yeast to all the big beer producers of the world, and mass-produced beer has been dominated by lager ever since.

S. pastorianus, while sharing some genome traits with S. cervisiae, grew to become a larger and more resilient yeast strain. The lager yeast also stays active when brewed in colder temperatures. Because of its size and its amenability to cold water, the yeast allows for what is known as bottom-fermentation (or bottom-cropping); the yeast gradually sinks to the bottom of the brew tank, leaving a clearer, cleaner beer.

Another decidedly different factor between ales and lagers is that lagers take much longer to brew. Most lagers need one or more months to ferment, whereas ales can typically be successfully brewed in as little as seven days. The name lager, in fact, is based on the German word lagern, which means “to store.”

It’s no coincidence that cold-brewed lagers are also often served ice cold. (After all, according to the commercials, a Coors Light isn’t fit to drink unless it’s cold enough that the mountains on the can turn icy blue.) Ales, on the other hand, especially those brewed under traditional circumstances like those in England and Belgium, are often served at cellar temperature, or around 55 F.

Let’s revisit the young woman at the bar with her date. Is it a shock that she chose Bud Light, a lager, when given the many choices at the bar? Could the popularity and familiarity of the Budweiser line of mass-marketed beers have played a part?

Nearly every popular American beer brand is headlined by a lager beer. In order for these beers to be produced at a high volume and at a low cost, most are what are known as American adjunct lagers. The word “adjunct” refers to the fact that many of the well-known lager beers (Coors, Budweiser, Pabst Blue Ribbon, Corona Extra, Miller High Life, and Foster’s) are brewed with an added grain, usually rice or corn, to round out the brew. The result is a beer that is usually very easy to drink: crisp, light in taste, low in bitterness, and with a pale yellow color and a middle-of-the-road alcohol level.

Many of the former flagship beers of the biggest macrobreweries have been supplanted by their “lite” versions. Light beers like Coors Light, Miller Lite, and our young lady’s choice, Bud Light, are also lagers. They are usually “lightened” by adding high volumes of rice or corn in the adjuncting process, thereby lessening the contributions, both in flavor and in calories, of the other ingredients. Light beers typically sacrifice those flavors for a lager that is much less filling.

The other popular form of lager in the United States is the pale lager, or pilsner. You’ve probably had world-wide marketed European pale lagers in the form of Heineken, Amstel, Stella Artois, and Harp.

Ales, on the other hand, are often the main attractions for micro and craft breweries. Ales tend to have much more robust, full-mouth flavors that linger. They utilize heavy amounts of hops and/or malts to achieve varying expressions of aromas and flavors. As a result, there are many styles of ale.

There is the American pale ale, like the one offered by Sierra Nevada. Pale ales and witbier are light and fruity, while the famous India pale ale, adored by hopheads across the land, packs on the hops to create intense floral and citrus aromas. Stouts and porters are ales that utilize heavily toasted grain to create a near-black ale with roasted malts and coffee overtones. Tripel ales up the yeast amounts, and quadrupel ales take it a step further by multiplying the grain ingredients four-fold to create dark, frothy ales high in sugar and malts, with equally high levels of alcohol.

But the types of ales don’t end there, with most styles being categorized by their place of origin. For example, there are English brown ales and Belgian brown ales, each having their own distinctive tastes and brewing styles. I could go on, as the number of ales is almost overwhelming … so go out and try some for yourself!

I recently took my own advice and pitted some pale ales against some pale lagers and pilsners. Here are my thoughts:

  1. Left Hand Brewing Company’s 400 Pound Monkey I.P.A., an India pale ale from Longmont, Colorado — Big, frothy head on this hoppy pale ale, notes of clove, coriander … just a lot of spice going on here, maybe too much. I give it a B-minus.
  2. Bell’s Brewing Company’s Lager of the Lake, a pale lager from Kalamazoo, Michigan — This pale lager is not all that impressive; it’s typical for the style, tastes like Miller High Life, only with a little more bitter aftertaste. C+
  3. Erie Brewing Company’s Mad Anthony’s A.P.A., an American pale ale from Erie, Pennsylvania — Easy-drinking … smooth, with a very tolerable amount of bitterness. Would make a good “everyday” beer. B+
  4. “Beer Camp” Electric Ray, an India pale lager that is a collaboration from Sierra Nevada Brewing Company and Ballast Point Brewing — A cool creaminess factor on this lager that is more ale-like, but with a crisp finish and a mild level of bitterness that slides from the taste buds, not destroying them; definitely unique. A
  5. D.G. Yuengling and Son’s Premium Beer, a pilsner from Pottsville, Pennsylvania — Note that this is not the famous Traditional Lager, but the “house beer” at Yuengling. A pilsner with a subtle level of hops that creates a crisp, cutting finish, with a refreshing carbonation. B

Nothing against the good people who produce Bud Light, but please don’t follow the same path as our young lady friend by choosing a beer based on its familiar name. Try some variety! Order a distinctive type of lager and an equally original ale, then rate them against one another until you find a favorite. That way, should you ever get asked the lager-or-ale question, you’ll be ready with an educated response.

beer

Out with old, in with new? Trappist ale vs. craft tripel

There has never been a final agreement on which is better: the classic, old, tried-and-true way of doing things, or the new, improved, “groundbreaking” way. The debate unfolds in many areas of human endeavor, including in the production of wine, beer, and spirits, and there are partisans on both sides.

I guess circumstances determine a lot in the argument, though. Consider technology: Most people will go out and purchase the newest, most up-to-date techy device, sometimes dropping hundreds of dollars just to have the latest, “greatest” whatever-it-is. We assume that when a new technological marvel is invented and released, it must be an improvement over what came before, the previous glitches fixed and new applications available to us. The iPhone 6 will make prior versions obsolete, just like digital media has done to most vinyl records, eight-track tapes, audio and video cassettes, CDs, DVDs, and more.

But it’s not like that with everything. Remember New Coke? When Coca-Cola tinkered with the formula of its flagship soft drink in the 1980s, the backlash was swift and overwhelming: Coca-Cola “Classic” was on the shelves within three months, and New Coke was nothing more than a case study in marketing textbooks by the 1990s.

So, which argument prevails in the brewing of beer?

Beer is an ancient but constantly evolving beverage that has craft-brewing practitioners biting at the bit to branch out and risk it all to make something new and never-tasted. Take, for example, Rogue Voodoo Doughnut Bacon Maple Ale — surely and truly a challenge to the palate of even the most skilled beer drinker. And I’m still not sure about trying Belgium’s Smisje Wostyntje Mustard Ale. It seems that the reigns have been loosened quite a bit in the new craft beer renaissance; brewers with eccentric vision are pursuing what would have once been illegal.

All these innovations are exciting and, in many cases, a novelty. I appreciate what the craft beer movement is doing, while I maintain a certain respect for brewers who have taken to focusing their beer-crafting skills on taking a tried-and-true style of brew that is already near perfection and attempting to reproduce it with the highest quality of care and diligence.

I recently was able to get my hands on a large bottle of a 2012 vintage Goose Island Brewing Company Matilda, a Belgian-style, golden tripel ale. I thought it would be interesting to drink it side-by-side with a proven and respected Belgian Trappist tripel ale, such as the Westmalle Tripel. I wanted to compare the Old-World recipe with a New-World interpretation. It turned out to be a gratifying experience.

First, a little about each beer:

Representing the Old World, Westmalle Tripel is not only a conventional Belgian-style ale, but it is one brewed in the proud tradition of the Trappist monks at Westmalle Abbey, who oversee every aspect of its production, from picking the choicest hops, yeast, and malt, to the brewing, bottling, and sale of the product. Trappist beers are revered the world over because of their intensity and the attention to detail given to flavor, carbonation, and overall quality craftsmanship. Westmalle is no exception.

According to the historical records of the abbey, monks at Westmalle started brewing beer for their own use back in 1836, but this recipe was first brewed and served in 1934. The current formula has been unchanged for close to 60 years. This beer is nicknamed the “mother of all tripels” by the monks who brew it with simplicity in mind. At 9.5 percent alcohol by volume (ABV), this strong, top-fermentation, classic blonde beer consists of only five ingredients: water, malt, sugar, yeast, and hops. The exact ratio of these ingredients in the formula is kept under tight wraps by the monks. Only the handful of monks that actually work in the brewery know the exact mixture.

Representing the New World is Goose Island Brewing Company, a prominent, Chicago-based craft brewery that thrived during the 1990s and 2000s. Goose Island was recently purchased by Anheuser-Busch InBev, allowing the company to really expand its product availability in recent years. Their Matilda beer, at 7 percent ABV and between 26 to 32 International Bitterness Units (IBU), is a multi-award-winning, Belgian-style tripel ale.

Goose Island recommends aging the beer and says it can continue, under the right conditions, to develop in the bottle for up to five years. Its wild spice and fruit accents make it a unique beer. Matilda has been brewed since the early 2000s but was, until around 2010, not available in wide release. Beer critics on Beer Advocate liken it to popular Belgian strong ales such as La Chouffe.

For the tasting of these beers, I tried them one after the other. I drank the Westmalle first, because it was a beer I have had in the past and was more familiar with; the Matilda was a new beer to me. Both beers were drunk from a Trappist-style chalice glass.

My tasting notes

Westmalle Tripel (2014 bottling): On the pour, golden, but cloudy and yeasty in color with a foamy head (a slow, angled pour is recommended). Great effervescence and a wafting, subtle aroma of hops, dried fruit, and nutmeg. The first sip can be a shock if you’ve never had a strong Belgian ale before. (I liken it to someone who tries a Delirium Tremens or Duvel for the first time and realizes that, while it may have the color of Budweiser, it is most definitely not Budweiser; it is much more powerful.) But it smooths out quickly, and you are left with a satisfying, refreshing drink. The hops are strong, but not I.P.A. strong; they sit on the tongue just long enough to be noticed. It has a classic finish and a lasting aftertaste. Rating: A

Goose Island Matilda (2012 bottling): On the pour, slightly darker golden/amber color than Westmalle, but far less opaque; noticeably less unfiltered yeast present in the bottle. On the nose, it was quite different. This beer reminds me of autumn: heavy on spiced nutmeg, ginger, and clove — maybe even some cinnamon in there. Even before I tasted it, I had the impression of much more complexity. The hops level is similar to or slightly less than the Westmalle, but the combination of spice and nuttiness was much more prevalent. There was a sweetness factor that had not registered with the first beer, too. (My theory is that this beer has less yeast and, therefore, less of the sugar was broken down and turned to alcohol — but I have no evidence to back that up.) Where this beer seemed to yield more on the side of complex and intense flavors, I feel the spiciness of it made it less refreshing, overall. The beer is already two years old but, based on its intensity, I feel it could probably withstand another year or two of bottle aging and still be enjoyable. Rating: A-